


Broken English

by wildkaleidoscope



Series: tongue tied [1]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Angry Shaw, Canon Typical Violence, EMOTIONS!!!!!, Emotional, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Happy Ending, Ouch, comfort/hurt, feelings!!!! so many!!!!, get ready for angst!!!!! did i say that already?, ig??? idk!! im new to this!, im sorry, lots angst, mentions of violence ig??, scared root
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-12-11 17:15:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11718873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildkaleidoscope/pseuds/wildkaleidoscope
Summary: Inspired by @commander_lexa 's comment on "Keep Talking" I wanted to explore Shaw's journey to accepting, and learning, to love Root. Giving up control over her emotions to be able to love Root like she deserves to be loved, Shaw had to go through quite a lot of her own self doubt, and how she expressed them is how we saw Shaw most of the time: anger. But how does anger convey itself when all she wants to do is love Root the way she feels she should?





	Broken English

**Author's Note:**

> so!! because of this : "the honest struggle of learning to love when you never thought that you could" by said commander_lexa user, I kept thinking more and more about how Shaw would come to terms with her feelings for Root. How she'd deal with them in the first place. It's set before Keep Talking, but can be read as a stand alone easily!

“ _I know! I love you.” The words hadn't meant to sound so harsh._

_She knew they did the moment she looked back up to Roots eyes. They filled with tears, an impossible expression tightening the corner of her lips, curled into a confused smile. She reached out, touching her cheek with the tip of her fingers. She hated this face. It reminded her too much of the night she had been back. Oh, how Root had been happy to see her, and the utter desperation when Shaw had pulled a gun to her temple._

_She wanted to wipe off the sorrow from her features, to flip the sad smile in one of her annoyingly cute grins. Her thumb rubbed over the bruised eye, gently trying to make it fade._

“ _Sameen.” Even her name sounded painful tonight, and Shaw hated that she put that pain in Roots heart._

“ _Don't.” A whisper, careful. “Stay.”_

_She pulled Root by the back of her head until their foreheads were resting against each other. She smiled through a clenched jaw, looking deep into Root’s eyes. She was trying to find something, anything, to indicate that she hadn't screwed up the last seven months of her life. What she'd been so certain of, all her life, was never going to happen to her, was happening right now and Shaw felt like the world was sitting on her chest._

_Root closed her eyes slowly, and exhaled a long and strained breath. She nodded, and Shaw could breathe again._

“ _Okay, Sameen. I'll stay.”_

_Shaw smiled, and she kissed her through tears she didn't feel spilling. They collapsed with Root’s own, dripping from their chins, washing away their past torments._

* * *

 

It wasn't always like that.

There was a time, shortly after Roots return, when Shaw was the same. Maybe better, even, but she wasn't a mess like this.

She knew she felt _something_ for Root, but the urgency of dismantling Samaritan, and then the urgency of saving Root’s life, and her mourning of Reese, had all taken precedent over her acknowledging those feelings.

She still acted on them and many a nights found Root and Shaw tangled in damp sheets, smiling like two idiots.

She did things for Root she didn't do for anyone else. She cooked, she cleaned her guns, she closed the bathroom door, she turned the volume down low at night.

She didn't think about those things, and it would've been fine, they would've found their pace. If Shaw hadn't started thinking about them.

She did it out of love, but love is not something Shaw had any experience in. Not that kind.

Shaw could do parents; she still called her mother from times to times, catching up and she felt a warmth in her chest.

Shaw could do friends - to an extent. She had grown fond of Lionel and his nicknaming tendency. She enjoyed the time they spent together.

Shaw could not do romantic love.

There was something terrifying about the fact she had no control over her reactions anymore. Sometimes she was so _angry_ about it, white dots flashed in front of her eyes. Shaw was terrified the first weeks Root had been back, waking up in a silent scream, mouth gaping. Her hair drenched, her t shirt soaked, she would carefully step out of their bed and shower before returning. Only then she would allow herself to look for Root.

In the darkness of their reality, she could trace with her eyes the bridge of her nose, the way her lips were slightly parted,  breathing through her mouth. Root was never a pretty sleeper, but in those moments of almost predatory watching, she knew Root was merely a body with an automated sympathetic nervous system that kept her alive. When everything that made Root _Root_ was left for her to remember, Shaw extended a hand and let her fingers dance on the warm skin of her cheeks until Root chased her hand away.

 _There_.

That flicker of the lips, that scrunched nose, the wrinkle in her brow.

Root.

Only then would the panic in her heart grow quiet again, and she'd go back to sleep until morning.

Somewhere within her complex and uncooperating brain, Shaw _knew_ she loved Root. She knew how you treat someone you love.

 

She knew you smiled and kissed them whenever your breath caught in your lungs because _God damn she's beautiful_.

You didn't yell at your loved one because they took your favorite gun without asking (especially when you didn't even need it).

She knew you placed gentle kisses on the bridge of their nose until their eyes fluttered open in their morning.

You didn't sleep on the couch and use, five days in a row, the excuse that you came in later than expected and didn't want to wake them.

She knew you apologized when hurt struck their golden eyes, and they turned away.

You didn't shrug and walk away to grab another beer.

 

Shaw knew all this, but there was still this anger boiling within her, grabbing at her legs when she wanted to hold Root because she had a bad day. It tore with sharp nails through her chest when she tried to speak up and tell Root that she wanted to be held tonight.

Shaw was terrified of how she saw herself act with Root.

Before they were a thing, she knew things would be explosive, but she had imagined a different kind of explosion; the ones that are acclaimed yet feared, not the ones that sends people running for the hill.

Some days, and the bitter taste of guilt lasted long on her tongue when the thought seeped in her; some days she wished she never felt love.

Love was violent and angry and worry and hurt and frustrated and silent and so loud and unbelievably harsh and rude and Shaw wanted nothing to do with it.

She was most angry at Root when she kept coming back. When she stayed, even time after times that Shaw thought she had crossed the final line.

Her head was a kaleidoscope, bright with new colors and patterns she'd never seen, and it made her dizzy. She felt sick, like she was stuck on a roundabout and she couldn't control the speed.

One day, Root was laughing at her terror and she spun her faster, harder, longer. The other, Root was screaming for Shaw to stop spinning, but Shaw looked at both her empty hands and tried telling her she wasn't the one spinning it.

She often woke up with shame tasting like iron in her mouth, only to realize she'd bit the insides of her cheeks during her sleep.

A hot hand fell on her face and she smiled; the last of her worries evaporated. She could see Root smile through the fingers and she kissed the inside of her palm.

“You mumbled all night.” Root said with a tired voice.

“I had an argument with the president.” Shaw replied, worry viciously seeping back into her bones.

Root clucked; she stopped believing her silly excuses long ago,  but she didn't pry either. Shaw breathed out long and hard, her hot breath dampening her own skin. These were hard mornings; for Root who longed to know what was causing her love such distress; for Shaw to know she was the reason behind Roots furrowed brow and sad smile.

Shaw wanted to be good enough. She wanted the best for Root, because Root had only given her everything she needed. On some mornings, Shaw would kiss Root, almost a question; _are you staying?_ And Root would answer with a smiley kiss back; _of course I am._ Shaw needed those reassuring thoughts that fled her mind, but Root never disappointed.

On other mornings, she would turn around and check her phone. Never did she miss the sigh Root let out before turning around herself. It always blew her ears off, ringing in her mind like an alarm bell; _you fucked up you fucked up you fucked up_ it chanted relentlessly. She'd frown, focusing on the new number she had received.

* * *

 

Things changed the day Root told her she was leaving.

Phone in hand, chin cocked to the side, Root was listening intently. Her backpack was carelessly thrown over her shoulder and she stood a good five feet away from Shaw. She had a small smile, the one Shaw knew meant she was trying to keep it together. Root’s eyes were liars, her shoulders wood planks ridden with nails, her spine a stoic, inflexible, straight line. She looked at Shaw with a thousand words, but said nothing.

“You can't go.” Shaw heard herself say, and she didn't know she could speak anymore.

“I have to.” rehearsed and rehashed, as if they had that conversation a hundred times already (maybe they did? Or maybe only Root had practiced it.)

Shaw clenched her jaw, feeling the anger tugging at her mind, trying to close the curtain on her heart. She fought it back, took a deep breath.

“Be safe, Root.” _Don't leave me_.

“I'll do my best.” _Tell me to stay again._

Root sniffled and Shaw cleared her throat. There was so much space between them, she took a hesitant step forward. Root shook her head; she had to leave now. A car honked downstairs and she gave Shaw one last grin; it was empty,  but it looked so much like the real one.

Then Root walked out the door, and Shaw had a very unpleasant sense of déjà vu.

She didn't hear the footsteps walking away from the door, and she hated how she instantly hoped Root had stopped on the other side, unable to leave her again. She vehemently repressed the taunting idea that Root was standing right there, her hand touching the doorknob, waiting, hoping, wishing. She wanted to yell, to claw this stupid heart of hers out as she watched the door get closer and closer until she flung it open.

There was no Root, obviously,  but the disappointment flushed her eyes with tears.

She'd be back.

She always came back.

“Right?” she called to seemingly no one, or nothing, but her eyes were hard focused on the camera in the corner of the corridor.

From the doorway, she heard her phone vibrate and it took everything in her to walk calmly back in and look at it. _I will keep an eye on her. This is an important mission_.

The Machine wouldn't give her more details, no matter how many times she pressed, or how she asked the questions. She contemplated for a moment about threatening Her, but Joss’ voice pleaded with her to drop it. Shaw just didn't like that this mission came at the same moment she was finally trying to let go of her anger, giving up control over her emotions.

She didn't know how long Root would be gone, but she sure as hell was going to be here when she'd return.

* * *

 

It took five weeks.

Five weeks of Shaw trying to preserve the scent of Roots hair on her pillow.

Five weeks of walking Bear at impossible hours because she kept dreaming of lifeless Root.

Five weeks of barely keeping up with The Machine's numbers (was she giving her more just to occupy her?).

Five weeks, and then one night it was over.

 

She came back, knocked at the door, even! 

It was well past midnight and Shaw was sitting in the dimly lit kitchen. She had one hand gently resting on top of Bear’s head. Dismantled gun pieces she hadn’t put together yet, bourbon twirling in her glass, her head shot up when she heard the soft knock. Immediately, she looked at her phone; the screen was black, no warning from Joss in her ear either. Bear gave her a apuzzled look before darting toowards the door in a scatter of nails clicking on hardwood floors.

Shaw opened the door to a dark hallway, and only the lamp in the living room lit the hunched silhouette. Dirty yellow shadows danced on Root’s tired face as she looked up at Shaw. She took one step in, and for the first time in seven months, Shaw did not feel anger rising in her chest.

Not unlike ember softly glowing, just a quiet reminder that although it still burned, the fire was contained; her chest felt like it was expanding, like she was trying to embrace Root directly from her heart. Her breath caught in her throat; smoke filled her lungs and ashes of anger scattered in her system. Shaw extended a trembling hand, but as soon as she touched Root’s face, wind picked up, oxygen flew again through her, and the embers turned to flame once more.

There, on her fragile face, circling her dark brown eyes, shadows of blue and dark red nagged Shaw’s heart. Her eyes traced the uneven shape of the black eye, noting the cut in the middle of her eyebrow, her plumped lip, split on the bottom left, already darkening.

Her fingers tightened in a fist, Shaw let her arm hang back to her side. She moved to the side as Root, unaware of the so sudden twist of emotion, walked in. She maybe had hoped Shaw wouldn’t see the bruised visage until morning, but she knew better when she bent to pet Bear.

Shaw didn’t know what to do with herself. She wanted to ask kRoot who did this to her. She looked straight passed her, directly into her laptop’s camera, seething. Joss’ voice in her ear was buzzing, conveniently trying to calm her down. Ignoring Root’s babbling, Shaw stomped to her computer and smashed the lid shut. She turned around, eyes darting between the still opened door and Root, standing just to its left.

She rushed to close the door, locking it at the same time, and whipped around, grabbing Root by the upper arms. The hard thud of her back against the door made Root wince, and she half smiled, trying to seize Shaw’s expression.

“Hi to you to, sweetie.” Root tried, but seeing the tightness in Shaw’s jaws, the darkened irises; something felt different, _misplaced_.

Shaw kept silent and she tasted Root’s bloodied lip, biting down where she felt the roughness of the cut. Root yelped, not expecting the sharpness of the bite; almost hurt that Shaw didn’t soothe it with another kiss. Her hair was disheveled, hiding part of her face and she could barely look at Root. Shaw wiped the blood from her mouth and stepped back, shaking her head.

“I, uh.” she couldn’t finish her sentence; anger flashed red on her face and she turned around.

“Hey, Sam, it’s okay. I’m here.” Root put both hands on Shaw’s shoulders.

She was roughly shoved back. Shaw was suddenly facing her and, for the first time, Root was truly scared of her. She felt so _invisible_ as Shaw stared her down, teeth clenched and fists balled up. For a second, only rage flashed in her eyes, and Root cowered back, a hand slowly rising in front of her.

“Sam, hey, what’s wrong?”

Therewere were so many things that were wrong.

Shaw shook her head, loose strands of hair catching over her nose. She pushed them out of her face as a despicable laugh resonated through her mouth, until it reached her lips. How could she tell Root that, during those five weeks, Shaw practiced saying I love you in front of the mirror, but she could never picture herself saying them to _her_ ; that her chest held so many tears, it nearly drowned her in the mornings, and yet her eyes wouldn't let them go. How could she tell Root that she wanted all of this to stop, and at the same time, she never wanted it in the first place. How could she explain to the woman who stayed, through thick and thin, and never judged her, that Shaw couldn’t love her like that. That she’d rather lose her altogether than hurt her one more time. That the rage she felt, like flames licking at her raw flesh, was from the fact she could never protect her completely, and that it made her sick to her stomach, thinking she couldn’t shelter Root from everything? These things were simply not things that could be said out loud.

Shaw could barely hold all of these unspoken words in her head, so she watched through clouded eyes; her body smacked Root’s against the wall again, and she tried kissing her. Root turned away, so Shaw latched on her throat, she felt so desperate, she disgusted herself. Root shoved her off with all her strength, and Shaw’s body hit the back of the couch.

“Sameen, talk to me, what’s happening, what’s wrong?”

“I have…” the words were croaked, they wouldn't uldnleave her throat. “There’s so many feelings, Root, I want them gone.” her head fell in her hands.

“It’s okay, Sam, I’m here. I’m sorry I left.” Root took a tentative step towards her.

“You make me worry so much, and I hate that I can’t do shit, that you come home like _this_ and I wasn’t _there_.”

Something felt off about the way Shaw almost violently pointed to her bruised face. Root stopped, one hand mid-air, extended in front of her. She frowned, mouth gaping for a few seconds. Shaw wouldn’t look at her, Root could tell she was biting the inside of her cheeks; hard.

“It’s not just that.” Root stood her ground, folding her arms over her chest; a failed attempt at keeping her heart  from beating out of her ribs.

Shaw kept silent for a few seconds. She didn’t want to open her mouth again. She was utterly terrified of the words pushing and shoving each other, trying to demolish her last restraint and bombard Root. She was not going to say anything else. She was going to shrug, maybe apologize, rub her face and invite Root to get cleaned and checked out.

But anger had a way, a twisted iron hand, red hot from trying to fight it, quickly melting her futile resistance. Shaw shot a furious look at Root, who took a step back and _flinched_.

“I know! I love you!”

* * *

 

Morning tiptoed through the curtains, almost uncertain if it wanted to disrupt the quiet stillness of the living room.

Tangled together, Bear, Root and Shaw were snoring softly. Root woke up first, mostly because her arm had fallen asleep and she couldn’t feel her hand, buried under the weight of Shaw’s body. She was wedged between the back of the couch and Root, the full side of her head pressing in Root’s chest. She stroke a few strands of hair out of her face, and Shaw stirred slowly. Bear had been pushed off the moment Root had woken up; dog hair wasn’t about to coat the suede of this sofa. She smiled groggily at a nuzzling Shaw, and hummed a good morning.

With a jolt of electricity, Shaw propped herself up on her elbow, and she looked Root dead in the eyes.

“I love you.” she said it with such force, like a hammer hitting the nail in one swift motion.

It caught Root by surprise, but unlike last night, it was a good one. Her face cracked in a smile so wide her cheeks hurt. Root wrapped Shaw back in her arms.

“I love you.” She said back, and morning seemed to have suddenly invaded the living room; the sun shone bright on Shaw’s back, dancing in Root’s hair and catching glistening tears on her cheeks.

Shaw kissed them away, wiping the others with her thumb, and then she kissed Root, careful to stay away from the blistered part of her lip.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it! Sorry for all the angst, I needed it out of my system! as always, leave a comment, and tell me how you felt about this! :D Also!! i decided to make this a series and I'm going to attempt another part, which may or may not include a wedding..... or maybe the trials of TRYING to plan a wedding when you're also supposed to keep the Good People of New York safe, with the help of an ASI who talks like a NY born and raised cop :") soooo keep an eye out if ya want!


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